Grownups Lie
by Eileen
Summary: Missing scene, after the food fight. Peter tries to talk to Rufio, who doesn't want to listen. Brief mentions of child abuse. Third and final chapter up now! Thanks for reading!
1. Grownups Lie

After the epic food fight, when everyone was sitting around covered in many colors, Rufio, still sulking over his loss at the insult game, declared that everyone had to go take a bath.

"Now!" he ordered. "To the waterfall! Form two lines, little ones at the front! Let's go, boys!"

The boys all got up, and fell into formation as if they had practiced it before. Peter took his place at the end of the left-hand line, and followed them all the way down to the waterfall.

_I know this place_, he thought.

The air was full of bubbles of all different colors, and as he reached for one, he had a sudden mental image of a tiny baby hand, reaching up to touch the bubbles. Then it was gone.

"I remember this," he said aloud. "Wendy made us take baths once a week, whether we wanted to or not. Before that . . ." He closed his eyes and tried to see it again, the baby's hand reaching up for the colorful bubble. Who was it? Why couldn't he remember?

He looked up toward the end of the line. Boy, was it a long way away! It would take forever for him to get up there. And he wanted to talk to Rufio, to try and explain himself. Not that he expected the boy to listen. But he had to try.

Peter broke away from the others and strode up to the edge of the water, ignoring calls of "No cutting in line!" Rufio was on his knees, holding a younger boy in the water, washing his hair.

_That used to be me, _Peter thought. _I used to do that for . . . for . . . oh, who __**was**__ it?_

Without looking up, Rufio snapped, "What do you want?"

"Look, I don't know what I did to offend you, but whatever it is, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, whatever." To the child in the water, he said, "Put your head back. Now close your eyes."

"I'm trying to talk to you here."

"I'm busy! Go back to the end of the line!"

"Listen to me!" Peter came over and knelt down beside him so they were almost eye to eye. "If you're worried about me taking over your little kingdom here, forget it. I just want to save my kids and bring them home."

"Yeah, and then you'll forget all about us all over again."

"I won't forget you. I promise."

Rufio turned and looked him directly in the eye. "Grownups say a lot of things they don't mean. They lie a lot."

"I'm not lying!"

"Why did you leave us? Why did you stay away so long?"

"I . . ." He had to admit it. "I don't know. Not yet. But when I do remember, you'll be the first to know."

"Like I care." He turned back to the younger boy, rinsed the last of the multi-colored soap out of his hair, and told him to go dry off. The next one in line took his place.

"Okay, fine, then. I'll just go to the back of the line." He got up and started back the way he had come.

"Did you hit your kids?"

The question stopped him in his tracks. "What?"

"Did you ever hit them?"

"What kind of a question is that? No! No, never!"

"Really? You never beat them with a belt, or burned them with lit cigarettes?"

"I don't even smoke." Then the implications hit him. "Rufio . . . did someone do that to you?"

"Maybe."

"Did your father do that to you?"

The boy didn't answer. Peter came over and knelt down beside him again.

"I can see why you don't trust grownups, if that's what they did to you. I am so, so sorry. And I mean that."

"Okay, now, hold your breath," Rufio said, to the younger boy, as he dunked him under the water.

"You don't want to talk about it. That's okay. But believe me when I say that not all grownups are like that. I love my kids, and I'd never, ever hurt them, not for anything in the world. I just want to take them home."

He waited. Silence. Discouraged, Peter started back to the end of the line, when he heard a sound barely louder than a whisper.

"Stepfather."

"What?" He stopped and turned around.

"He was my stepfather. I never knew my real dad."

"Well, I'm sorry he hurt you. I promise you – I swear on the great Nevertree that I will never hurt any boy under my protection. Now, or ever."

He thought he had him for a second. Then Rufio turned away and said, "Grownups lie."

It was useless. Peter sighed and went back to the end of the line.


	2. You're Not Him

_(Author's Note: I intended this to be a one-shot, but it just wouldn't let me go. So I wrote a second chapter.)_

As the last notes of Maggie's song faded into the night, Peter felt something calling him down to the water. It wasn't like an actual voice calling his name; it was more a feeling that this was where he was meant to be, right now. It was late, and the moons were rising, but he had to find out what this was all about.

He came upon a spot by the lagoon, a large rock that seemed to have steps in the side like a piece of prehistoric playground equipment, and he thought: I know this place. I came here often.

And then he saw Rufio, sitting on the rock, and he wanted to go back the way he had come, but his feet would not obey his brain's commands. Some part of him knew that this was where he was meant to be, at this moment.

"I remember this place," he said. The boy didn't even turn his head. "I used to come down here and sit right where you're sitting, and play my pipes. Sometimes the mermaids would poke their heads up out of the water, and listen."

Still no response. Well, that was something. At least the kid wasn't waving a sword at him. He came over and sat on the opposite side of the rock, scrambling to find hand and foot holds. "I don't know if I am who they say I am, but it's starting to feel real."

"You're not him," Rufio murmured, watching the water.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Cause he never would have left us! He would have come back . . . unless he couldn't."

"Maybe I still don't understand all this, but I know that if I don't get my kids back, there's nothing for me to go home to. They're all that matter to me now."

The boy turned on him with such fury that Peter nearly fell off the rock. "Don't we matter?" he cried out. "Don't you care about us? You'd go off and leave us again?"

"Look, it's not that I don't like you, but it's complicated. Grownups have a lot of responsibilities—"

"You swore you'd never grow up! You'd always stay and take care of us! What happened to you?" There were tear streaks down the boy's coffee-colored face, and Peter unthinkingly reached out to wipe them away. Rufio turned and slid off the rock.

"Hey, come back here!" Peter had a much harder time getting down. He wasn't as limber as he had been when he was this kid's age. He lost his hold and fell face-first into the sand. Getting up and brushing the sand off, he ran after the boy, who was disappearing into the brush.

"Will you listen to me? Please, just listen!"

"Go away! Leave us, if you're gonna leave! Don't waste my time!"

"Listen!" He had caught up to the boy by this time, and he grasped his shoulders and turned him so they were face to face. "You've got one heck of a chip on your shoulder, and maybe I deserve it, but I can't do this without your help. Whatever I've done, I'll find a way to make it up to you. Somehow. I promise."

"We did just fine without you! We don't need you! Face it, if Hook hadn't kidnapped your kids, you wouldn't ever have come back, cause you don't care about us!"

"That's not true! I . . . well, I don't really know you yet. But I'd like to. Please, just give me a chance."

Rufio appeared to be considering this. Then he pulled away and started back up the path. Peter followed.

"Please, I can't do this without you!"

"If you really were the Pan," Rufio said, "I'd follow you to Hell and back. But you're just a fat old man who doesn't know how to fly. You're not him, and you never will be."

And he turned and stalked away. Peter watched him go, not sure if he had helped or hurt the situation. Not knowing if he'd ever do what he came here for.

Not knowing who or what he really was.


	3. A Dad Like You

Dead?

How could he be dead?

Peter knew how, of course, had been there as Captain Hook rammed his sword through the boy's body, had caught him and felt his last breath leave him. But still, part of his mind could not comprehend the fact that Rufio was dead.

He ascended through the skies of Neverland, aloft on his happy thoughts, but a tinge of sadness remained. He should be happy; he had done what he came for, after all. He had found his inner Pan, had reconnected with that part of him that had never really grown up, and he had rescued his kids, and now they were on their way home.

So he should have been celebrating, but he couldn't let go of the thought that he had somehow failed the boy.

"_You know what I wish? I wish I had a dad . . . like you."_

_You should have, _Peter thought, rushing to catch up with his kids. _You deserved a dad like me. I wish I could have been that for you. I'm so sorry, Rufio. I shouldn't have let you die._

"What's wrong, Peter?" Tinkerbell flitted over to him.

"I'm just sorry that I couldn't have saved Rufio. I felt like he needed me the most."

"Aw, don't be sad! He came around in the end. Don't ever tell him this—well, I guess you can't now, but he was worried he wouldn't measure up."

"He was?"

"You should have seen him when he got here. He wouldn't say two words to anyone. Not because he was stuck up or anything; he was scared. It took a long time for him to come out of his shell. You know what did it?"

"What?"

"You. Stories about you, that the other boys told him. He decided that was what he wanted to be."

"He wanted to be me? But he hated me!"

"He loved the Pan that you were. That's why he didn't believe that you were the real deal. He felt let down. But you sure showed him!"

"Too little, too late," Peter said sadly.

Tink alighted on his shoulder. "He gave his life for you. It was what he wanted, the chance to show you how much he loved you. So don't be sad. He fulfilled his dream, and he's in a better place now. And it wasn't your fault. You didn't order him to do what he did—he did it on his own, out of love for you. He will live on in our songs and stories forever, the way you did."

"Well, that's good. He didn't die in vain."

"I have to leave you now."

"What? No! Don't leave me!"

"You can make it the rest of the way on your own. Go on, your kids are waiting for you!"

"My kids . . ." He was going to be a better father from now on. Whatever it took—if he had to quit his job, move to the country, center his whole life around them—that was what he would do. They deserved it.

He couldn't be a father to Rufio, not now. But he could be the best father he could be, to the kids he did have. He owed them that much. If it took the rest of his life, he would make it up to them.

And for the rest of his life, if anyone asked Peter how many children he had, he told them, "Three." The two he had raised . . . and the one he would carry in his heart, forever.


End file.
